


Days of Advent, Chapter 7: Last Wills and Testaments

by CorsairOriginal



Series: Days of Advent [12]
Category: Before Crisis: Final Fantasy VII, Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, On The Way To A Smile: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Aromantic, Asexual Character, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Shinra Company
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27688954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsairOriginal/pseuds/CorsairOriginal
Summary: Reeve Tuesti had not been asked to lead what is left of the Shinra Corporation after Meteorfall five days before, but he is slowly coming to terms with the fact that he must. This day he is working with Shinra Legal to handle business that should give Shinra some leverage in the months and years to come. But is he really able to do the jobs that others would find morally gray?**Days of Advent is a FF7 AU, taking main characters and elements from the Compilation of FFVII and redefining concepts and motivations.******For those who haven't read "Through Another's Eyes," I would recommend at least reading Chapters 1,2, 13, and 14. While not completely necessary, it does help to understand where this story starts from.****
Series: Days of Advent [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1903474
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Days of Advent, Chapter 7: Last Wills and Testaments

The armored sedan didn’t have far to travel in Kalm, but Reeve was going to have to get used to being escorted everywhere he went. As a board member, he was accustomed to security details or Turk escorts, but they had only been necessary under certain circumstances: when Midgar was under high threat levels, during large public events, or when traveling to Shinra offices outside of Midgar. Veld had insisted Reeve use caution at all times from now on, and Reeve couldn’t begin to argue with Veld on any matters of security—that would be a losing battle.

As the car rolled slowly down the packed, thin streets never designed for vehicles, Reeve threw a glance to Cait Sith. From the seat beside Reeve, his partner only grinned up at him in encouragement. He returned Cait’s smile, then idly his eyes drifted to the approaching bed and breakfast that had accepted Shinra’s request to use it as Reeve’s temporary office. The company had more than enough to compensate the owners for the building’s use. It was small, easily protected, and had significantly fewer potential security holes than the scattered portable buildings near Midgar. 

Again the thought surfaced that Reeve should be staying at the bed and breakfast and making more space for those in Elmyra’s home. For as comforting as the presence of his friends had been, there was no denying they were all practically on top of each other. Marlene and Barret being switched out for Vincent (and, as of that morning, a cat) hadn’t improved the situation much. While everyone in the house was used to cramped tents, Reeve certainly wasn’t, and he could tell it was hard on Elmyra as well. If Reeve finally made the move to the bed and breakfast entirely, he’d be at least using the building for more than business, and he wouldn’t be imposing on Elmyra in…her home.

Not that it was her home to begin with. 

Reeve swallowed down the lump in his throat that had rudely climbed up. He had just pictured his mother on the fourth floor balcony, arranging flowers in a vase—could clearly see her straightening her homemade curtains in the parlor, or setting out meat pies to cool on the kitchen table. All of these were familiar sights erased from the house in Kalm forever, now replaced by memories of the ruined home in Midgar and a makeshift grave marker. Rubbing his face, he sighed deeply. He had tried not to think about his mother’s death, tried to compartmentalize and keep himself busy…but in that house, avoiding his memories wasn’t possible. He saw his mother everywhere, struggled against how simultaneously nostalgic and unfamiliar the house was with Elmyra’s furnishings. Daily he fought against the urge to complain about any of Elmyra’s chosen arrangements for her belongings, spikes of inexplicably genuine anger threatening his self-control.

Reeve knew it was unlikely any of his friends would judge him for his still-fresh grief, but he inwardly dreaded the possibility of being his worst around them. They all had losses to mourn, and none of them appeared to have such a struggle with them. For Reeve it had been such an emotional, physically  _ exhausting  _ battle to keep himself in check. No matter their insistence to the contrary, they barely knew Reeve…Would they be quick to forgive him if he broke? Lashed out? 

Forgiveness was not a strong suit for most of them…

Reeve supposed he had just made the decision. He would ask for his things to be brought to the bed and breakfast that day, have Cait explain the change to his friends. It was cowardice more than pragmatism, but none of them would guess that. Then again, through Cait Sith they had called him a coward repeatedly. 

They knew. Of course they already knew. 

A dullness fell over Reeve’s expression, rubbing his eyes as he tried to refocus his thoughts. Now the day’s already revolting agenda brought Reeve a powerful, choking sense of dread as the car slowed.

A hand patted his arm, and Reeve blinked at Cait in surprise. Independent of any of Reeve’s commands, Cait’s face turned in a gentle smile. “They’re yer friends, Reeve. Donnae push them away. They’ll need ye as much as ye need them. Ye’ll see.”

Stunned, Reeve gawked at the stuffed cat looking up at him sagely. Sometimes Cait voiced things without prompt, but rarely anything that diverged from Reeve’s conscious mind. In very rare instances, what Cait said was  _ wholly _ unlike Reeve’s inner monologues. He had  _ no _ idea where Cait pulled these moments from. There was still so much about his knack—what some folktales had called “Inspire”—that Reeve didn’t understand. 

Cait’s miniature pep talk had thankfully knocked Reeve back to the moment, and he gathered himself as the car came to a stop. The door was opened for him, and Reeve smiled as he met eyes with a face he hadn’t seen since Meteorfall. Waiting outside of the car, Freyra cheerfully waved at him as he stepped out, Cait Sith hopping behind him in his shadow. He parted from his security escorts to stop in front of the SpecOps agent.

“This is a surprise,” he greeted. 

Freyra straightened and saluted, grinning largely. “Morning, Senior Director.”

“Do Aye get me proper hello?” Cait chirped coyly, holding his hands together as his head tilted toward her.

“Of course you do!” she laughed, scooping him in her arms and squeezing him tightly. “Good morning, Cait. You are still the softest, squishiest, best partner I’ve ever had.”

“People are going to start thinking  _ I’m _ the flirt if you keep that up,” Reeve scolded Cait.

“Yer not?” Cait asked.

“You’re not?” Freyra parroted.

Snickering, Reeve shook his head and gestured for Cait Sith to hop down. Answering his partner’s unsaid commands, Cait patted the top of Freyra’s head before sliding from her arms. “Aye’m off,” he said to Freyra. “Duty calls!”

Waving him off with her entire arm, Freyra called after, “Be safe out there!” She then turned to Reeve. “So…where does he go without you?”

“He keeps an eye on recovery efforts, and if I need him to monitor something or relay information, I tell him to,” Reeve said. With a grimace, he shrugged his shoulders. “I’d love to catch up, but I’m here for some unfortunate business, I’m afraid. Not looking forward to this…”

“I’ve been assigned as your security detail,” Freyra assured him, holding her hands behind her back and straightening. “You won’t be alone. Looks like you’re stuck with me for now.” 

A sense of relief came over Reeve. He was aware her word choice was purely coincidental, but it caused a warm smile to soften his face. “I am extremely grateful to have you, Agent Voloshin.”

At him addressing her by surname, Freyra scoffed between pursed lips. “I will exclusively call you Mr. Tuesti if you do that. Bleck.”

Chuckling, Reeve pushed back strands of his black hair into place as he nodded. “I suppose I just wanted to know for certain we don’t have to be formal.”

Half-smiling up at him incredulously, Freyra then moved and gestured for him to walk through the quaint, wooden front doors. “After you, then, Reeve.”

“You may be following me more than you anticipated,” he said tiredly as he stepped in the building. 

“Whenever you’re not around the Gainsborough house.”

A sharp correction nearly leapt from Reeve’s mouth, but he managed to swallow it back. “There’s, uh…I’ve just decided to make a few changes to the arrangements.”

Unaffected, Freyra nodded. “Of course, sir.”

The unwavering adaptability of any of the former Turks was assuring. “My assistant should be here before lunch…” Reeve mused. “I’ll have to have her handle it…”

“Whatever changes you need to make, I’ll be here for you.”

Reeve’s face fell slightly, reminded of Veld’s near-exact words the day before—and Cait’s unexpected advice in the car. “I know. It’s your job.”

To Reeve’s shock, Freyra forcibly elbowed him, briefly knocking the wind out of him. “Not just my job,” Freyra said firmly. “Maybe you  _ deserve _ people on your side? You dunce.”

Rubbing his midsection, Reeve blinked down at her dumbly. As she beamed up at him, a smile slowly came to him. “Th-Thank you. Very aggressively-offered support is still support.”

Giving him a thumbs up, Freyra nodded with a grin. “Don’t dismiss any of us  _ wanting _ to help you and I won’t have to do that again.”

Reeve grimaced sheepishly. “With a security detail like this, who needs enemies?”

As though chiding a schoolmate, Freyra stuck out her tongue at him, eliciting chuckles from him. Reeve was more grateful than he had time to articulate that someone would be around to make him smile when he didn’t feel like it. How Cait Sith had known to say as much was a mystery Reeve would eventually have to solve.

Members of Shinra Legal trickled into the cozy bed and breakfast over the next half hour, updating Reeve on their efforts. When retrieving his puppet collection from Midgar, an uncomfortable fact had surfaced during his conversation with Veld. Every last one of the Shinra board members had been wealthy beyond reason, not just himself. Reeve had never turned down his salary, but also had never had even the slightest idea how to possibly spend the sheer volume of it. His accountant had been helping him distribute regular donations to a spread of charitable causes, but even over years such efforts barely put a dent in it. This was simply a reality to which Reeve had grown accustomed, a thought that would occur to him every now and again. 

The one thing that Reeve had taken the greatest comfort in was that he had secured his parents’ futures—along with whatever family he had daydreamed starting. As the years had passed, he had let hopes for his own family dwindle, but he still had taken care of his parents, and had ensured that (should the worst happen to Reeve) his parents would receive that care until the end of their days.

While Reeve had assumed he would outlive his parents, he had never thought he wouldn’t even be forty before losing them both…

Upon taking his contract as an executive board member, his lawyer at the time had pointed out to him that Reeve would have to diligently keep up with any and all paperwork and have any beneficiaries chosen and in print. A thorough examination of the agreements had revealed a particularly distressing bit of legalese that allowed Shinra itself to lay claim to chief executive property that had no beneficiary designated. While at the time Reeve had been shocked and dismayed, his lawyer had dismissed Reeve’s wariness. Midgar was technically Shinra property, so was it truly so bizarre? In hindsight this unsettling bit of overreach was the first sign of what awaited Reeve at Shinra’s highest level. 

Now only two board members were alive, and the company was due its return on investment. 

Reeve hated that he was willing to entertain the underhanded idea, but the legal teams had assured him that it was standard practice for them to scrutinize any of the deceased board member’s estates. Shinra would need every gil it could leverage in the days to come, and Reeve knew that it was unlikely at least some of his former chairpeople had properly planned to divy up their fortunes.

While the legal teams calmly ran down the assets that Shinra could claim, Reeve only sat in his chair and struggled to control his increasing disgust. Predictably, Hojo and Scarlet had assigned no beneficiaries, both being unwed and detached from any form of family. (Liquidating any of Hojo’s assets was going to be a challenge in and of itself. Who knew what nightmares Hojo had kept in his home?) Heidegger’s only written request had been his “freeloading” younger brother and cousins  _ not _ receive a single red gil. The pettiness of it was like Heidegger had temporarily risen from the grave to deliver the news personally.

The perfectly legal claim that Shinra had to their estates didn’t make Reeve feel any less greasy about taking advantage of it. For the sake of recovery efforts, Reeve was apparently willing to loot graves. He was not proud of this, and inwardly feared he stood at the top of the slippery slope that would end in Reeve’s inevitable, complete corruption. How many paths to destruction had been paved with “It was for the right reason”?

Then there was the more complicated matter of Rufus Shinra’s breathtaking, staggering fortune. His father had willed  _ everything _ to his son, skipping over any extended family and even his widow. On the other hand, Rufus hadn’t had the time to settle any of his affairs before his young life had abruptly ended. Shinra Legal assured Reeve that made the matter quite open and shut, not complicated at all, but Reeve would not allow the Shinra Corporation’s claim to be so simple.

Reeve had not met Mrs. Shinra face to face before, though he’d been present as Mrs. Shinra attended a number of lavish events. Each time she'd been on the arm of her son, elegantly wearing her age. Reeve had never had the need to introduce himself, and recalled Rufus being quite defensive of her. She had rarely traveled with her husband, and it was well-known that their relationship had been strained at best. Shinra Sr.’s mistresses were one of Shinra’s most poorly-kept secrets—before its absorption into the Public Security Division, it slipped that the former director of SOLDIER had been one of Shinra’s sons out of wedlock. 

It was unfortunate that Director Lazard had allowed his obsession with being denied his birthright to wholly consume him—to lead to an untimely demise. Reeve imagined that with the right motivation, Lazard would have been a powerful ally in a post-Meteor world.

Escorted by a pair of her own lawyers, Mrs. Shinra entered the bed and breakfast common room. Reeve could hear several among the legal team pass judgemental quips about her attire: She had arrived in a solid-black dress, black heels tapping against the wood floors and a black designer handbag hung in the crook of one arm. Shimmering netting delicately draped from her hat over half of her dignified face and her firmly tucked and sculpted blonde hair. While her very expensive fashion suggested mourning, the whispers near Reeve scoffed at how unlikely that actually was—not for the husband who had passed months before, nor the loss of her only child.

Reeve frowned at the pair snickering near him, and they quickly silenced after mumbled apologies.

Over the next several hours, Shinra Legal explained, line by line, the iron-clad and pitiless ownership the Shinra Corporation had to every last possession she assumed she owned. No matter how nimbly her lawyers attempted to snake around the futility of it, they finally began to show an understanding that taking the matter to court would cost Mrs. Shinra more than she had, and would change nothing.

During this legal tennis match, Reeve sat in silence, his eyes lingering on the last person on Gaia holding the Shinra name. She avoided his gaze, focusing on the discussions and occasionally requesting to whisper to one of her lawyers. She was doing her best to hide her emotions, but as the hours dragged on it was barely hidden behind her tight lips and hard brow. He watched her swallow repeatedly, and her shoulders tremble when she sighed. 

The more upset she became, the more Reeve’s mood mirrored hers.

Adjusting her glasses, a member of Shinra Legal exhaled deeply. “…We understand how distressing this whole process is for you, Mrs. Shinra.” She then addressed the lawyers seated beside Mrs. Shinra. “Fortunately, we can avoid any lengthy court battles if your client is willing to accept an extremely generous offer Senior Director Tuesti has requested.” She opened a binder and handed one of Mrs. Shinra’s lawyers a stack of paperwork. “He will bestow full ownership of the Shinra home in Junon, any personal possessions within that home as of today’s date, and a yearly salary of one hundred thousand gil for the remainder of her life. This is a  _ very _ considerate offer at the Senior Director’s personal insistence.”

One of the lawyers squinted as he began looking over the paperwork, the second leaning closely to Mrs. Shinra to whisper in her ear. Mrs. Shinra abruptly let out a violent, choked sob and raised her handkerchief to her face.

A surge of panic overwhelmed Reeve, a cold sweat with it. Before anyone else could speak, Reeve quickly said, “I have to take some calls. Please, help Mrs. Shinra and her team look over the contract.” He jolted to his feet and rushed from the room to prevent anyone from stopping him. He noted the sounds of footsteps following him up the stairs to the second floor. Dreading who might be in his shadow, he spun on them, starting as Freyra nearly bumped into him. “Oh—Excuse me—!” he blurted. “I just…!”

Holding up her hands gently, Freyra smiled up at him. “It’s just me. Just me.”

Letting out along, haggard sigh, Reeve rubbed his face. “Pardon. I…I forgot you were in the room.”

“Then I’m doing my job,” she said, nodding. For a moment they both stood on the stairs, neither speaking as Reeve stared away awkwardly and took deep, calming breaths. Finally, Freyra urged, “You needed to make some calls…?”

Sullenly, Reeve’s shoulders sagged. “Well…I’m sure I can  _ find _ some to make.”

“You needed to get out of there?” Freyra asked, her smile softening in sympathy.

He nodded, his throat dry as he swallowed his emotions. “I was prepared for a lot, but I can’t…watch a mother cry right now.”

Freyra’s face fell, and her eyes swiveled to the stairs. “Oh. Oh, yeah. That’s right…”

Reeve turned and trudged up the stairs, feeling his escort’s presence behind him as he silently walked to the suite where he would make private calls. His computers and some of his equipment covered the available surfaces, several extra end tables had been moved into this bedroom to accommodate it all. He sank into a chair next to the window and gazed out over the gardens, leaning his jaw against a hand. “…This is going to take the rest of the afternoon, I’m sure…” he mumbled.

“Would you like some tea?”

He allowed a half-smile. “That would be wonderful. And please get something for yourself. The tea biscuits and clotted cream the owners make are incredible.”

He heard her whisper, “Oooh, hell yeah. Tea biscuits!”

Temporarily distracted from his sulking, Reeve snickered and smirked. “It’s very difficult to imagine you as a Turk, Freyra.”

Knowingly, she grinned. “I’m SpecOps, sir.”

Returning her expression, he said, “You know what I meant.”

“I know,” she said with a short shrug. “Becoming a Turk was a decision of necessity. I was fourteen when both my parents died. Didn’t have a lot of options I could think of at the time.”

Reeve’s face softened in discomfort. “…I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” she replied cheerfully. “It’s mostly better. I mean, it’s been ten years.” She paused, considering something, then corrected herself: “Fourteen. It’s been fourteen years.”

Years were sometimes hard to keep count of, though it seemed odd she couldn’t recall the number for something that important… “Most of the—S-SpecOps don’t have family, do they?” Reeve asked softly.

Her smile immovable, Freyra shook her head. “Not many, no. It was easier to sell the job to people who didn’t have much else.”

“I hope you didn’t have to face the worst of it.”

A long pause followed, and Freyra’s grin gradually widened. “Course not.”

Something in that grin sent a shiver down Reeve’s back. “Uh, tea?”

“Roger, roger!” she chirped, giving him the thumbs up before exiting the room.

Recollecting himself, Reeve stood and went to his desktop. He busied himself answering emails and calling various project leaders. Cid Highwind had landed safely in Rocket Town after making several necessary stops—including the brief pause near the Corel Mountains for Barret and Marlene. It was comforting to hear Cid’s voice, and especially his fiery enthusiasm. Cid had already thrown himself into bringing together current and former Shinra mechanics and engineers to get alternate power sources running. Reeve and Cid talked at great length about where resources to speed up the process could be gathered, and which people Cid should talk to about bringing older equipment that didn’t run on mako out of storage.

“They’re gonna play ball, right?” Cid asked. “I mean, what the hell  _ is _ my position in this circus of a company, anyway? Droppin’ yer name gonna be enough?”

“Well…” Reeve sighed as he paced across the suite, idly gesturing with the teacup in his other hand. There was no use delaying it, Reeve had made up his mind days before Cid had left. “I’ve given it some thought, I don’t want anyone to question your authority. I’m going to send out the order you’re now the official head of the Space and Aeronautics Department.”

Cid let out a sharp sound somewhere between an irritated grunt and absolute confusion. “What the hell would you do somethin’ that stupid for?”

Laughing with a shake of his head, Reeve replied, “You like to pretend you’re terrible with responsibility, Cid, but I know that’s a lie. Please, remember I was there. I have watched you repeatedly prove otherwise.”

“Goddamn pain in my ass,” he grumbled in response. “How’s  _ Palmer _ takin’ that? I know he headed back toward Midgar a couple days ago…”

“I’ll handle Palmer,” Reeve assured him. “You and I both know he’s not up to the task of restructuring Shinra in any way.”

“He got real cozy doin’ nuthin’ for a awful long time,” Cid agreed with a bitter chuckle. “And he was at the lead of Shinra dipshits blathering that mako use had no environmental impact.”

Rolling his eyes largely, Reeve nodded. “I recall. I took him at his word for a while. He was  _ quite _ good at feigning innocence.”

Another irritated grumble followed. “Buncha bullshit.” A pause. “So. I ain’t gonna convince ya to change yer mind on this?”

Reeve smirked to himself. “Captain,” he said firmly. 

“Fine, fine,” Cid sighed in resignation. “Just don’t make a big deal out of it. Everyone in town won’t gimme a moment’s peace for  _ months _ if you do.”

It wasn’t exactly humility, but Cid’s brand of reluctant leadership was going to be a valuable asset going forward. Many working class Shinra employees in  _ many _ departments looked to Cid as a peer, promoting him would be seen as a significant change in Shinra’s priorities. The gesture was symbolic as much as it was logical.

Reeve noted Freyra waiting in the doorway patiently. When they met eyes, she tapped her wrist meaningfully. “Ah,” Reeve said quickly. “Looks like I’m needed. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.”

“If you forget to promote me I ain’t gonna cry about it.”

“I won’t, I assure you,” he chuckled. “Take care.”

Cid’s reply sounded more like a growl, but Reeve got the jist. After hanging up, Reeve took in a long breath and straightened his back. “I’ve been asked for?”

Freyra nodded. “They’re ready.”

Making a last adjustment of his coat and tie, Reeve slicked back his hair and nodded. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.”

Freyra lingered at his side as they returned to the downstairs common area. One of Mrs. Shinra’s lawyers currently shook hands with the head of the legal team; the other sat on the couch beside the widow and held her shoulders gently as she signed paperwork. Her hand was steady, but her crystal-blue eyes lingered over the print with a distinctly hollow dullness. The mascara that Reeve recalled as flawless was now more of a smokey eye around her lids, and she had clearly touched up her powder at some point—covering up the removal of streaks.

As Reeve approached the table, the lawyer on his feet slipped his hands into his pockets, avoiding the illusion of civility in shaking hands. “Mr. Tuesti. Your offer  _ is _ extremely generous. There certainly was no obligation for you to provide for her. Mrs. Shinra is grateful, and accepts the agreement as is.”

Reeve forced a smile finely-tuned over his many years in upper management. “It wouldn’t have sat well with me to completely abandon the last Shinra.”

Mrs. Shinra firmly set down the pen on the completed forms, and mechanically stood. The lawyer beside her moved around the table and followed baseline social etiquette by extending a hand to Reeve. “If there are any items with no value other than personal in any of the other Shinra family properties, we hope to continue amiable discussions.”

Reeve buried any discomfort as they shook hands. “Of course. Shinra Legal will be handling any of the transfer of assets from this point on. I hope you understand.”

“Absolutely, Senior Director,” he replied with an equally well-rehearsed amiability. “You have some real law smiths working for you.”

“I agree,” Reeve said with a nod. He then gave as gentle a smile to Mrs. Shinra as he could muster. “Thank you for meeting me for this.”

Her expression blank, she stepped beside her council without acknowledging Reeve. One of her lawyers placed a hand on her shoulder and gestured toward the door. Her council said for her, “Thank you again for your sympathies.” 

“I’m also terribly sorry for your loss,” Reeve replied by rote, and he gently held out a hand to Mrs. Shinra. “Have a safe trip to Junon, ma’am.”

Something sparked in Mrs. Shinra’s eyes the second Reeve entered her space bubble. In an instant her face skewed, her delicately-lined face twisting in scathing hate. Her gloved hand darted toward Reeve’s face. Reeve didn’t have time for Mrs. Shinra’s movements to even register before something black sped between them much, much faster. Mrs. Shinra let out a shriek of surprise as Freyra instantly brought the older woman into a hold that pushed her to her knees. Reeve hadn’t been able to see anything in between Mrs. Shinra’s glare and her suddenly being on the floor—only having enough presence of mind to catch a swift movement of Freyra’s free hand toward the inside of her jacket. Before he could fumble out any kind of verbal response he held up a hand in horror—which Freyra caught in the periphery of her vision. As quickly as she had overtaken the widow, Freyra slid away from her and statuesquely stood at the ready.

“You’re a  _ snake!” _ Mrs. Shinra howled at Reeve. “You slimy son of a _ bitch.” _ Tears of rage slid down her face as her council quickly got between her and Reeve and helped her to her feet. “You’re a liar. You’re a  _ liar!” _

Still in bewildered shock from the last few moments, her insults were only one more assault on Reeve’s composure. “I—I’m not—the agreement still stands,” he forced himself to say lamely.

“You and your fake charity  _ burn, _ Tuesti—that was  _ my _ family’s money!” Mrs. Shinra shrieked back. “You were just a  _ child _ when my husband took you on. You were  _ nothing.” _

Freyra moved her arm against Reeve’s midsection and guided him back from the confrontation. While Reeve’s eyes earnestly pleaded with Mrs. Shinra, the others in the legal team further filled the spatial gap. Firm warnings against further action on Mrs. Shinra’s part overwhelmed her continued screaming and completely covered any of the terrified apologies from her escorts.

The last thing that Reeve could distantly hear as Mrs. Shinra was led out of the bed and breakfast was a bitter, “You’re no Shinra. I hope they all  _ tear you apart!” _

Mrs. Shinra’s last words were like the final blow to a keystone, the structure of his capacity for rational thought crumbling. Stunned, he sank into one of the common room armchairs, staring into nothing and blinking. As though watching the room through a dense fog, Reeve could vaguely hear the legal team drop their own charades. They let their pent-up aggression fly the second Mrs. Shinra disappeared—which apparently there had been a lot of. 

Reeve nodded dumbly any time he was addressed, mostly as the gaggle of lawyers spent a great deal of the next few minutes insulting Mrs. Shinra and her team, and assuring Reeve that he was more than blameless. In fact, he was practically a saint compared to the prior Shinra leaders. According to them, Reeve would be morally justified in financially running Mrs. Shinra into the ground or bringing up charges of assault.

Reeve wasn’t exactly sure at what point he had declined any offers of retaliation, and excused himself. Reality began to settle like the dust after a storm as he found himself ascending the stairs to the second floor.

“Wow, yeesh,” a voice from beside him said casually, causing him to glance at Freyra. “I mean,  _ yikes.” _

Reeve made no response, his thoughts still not quite clear enough for anything useful. 

In a perfectly cheerful voice, Freyra asked, “So…want me to rough ‘er up?”

Something about her tone completely disarmed him and the stress of the last few minutes released itself as pained laughter. Reeve heavily leaned against the doorframe of his makeshift office to steady himself, and shook his head. In between wheezing breaths he finally managed to say, “No!”

Instantly she replied, “Not even a little? Just like…push her down a flight of stairs? Short flight. Two floors at most.”

“No, no,” he said, wiping moisture from his eyes. “Please, no.” After managing to steady his inappropriate laughter, he smiled at Freyra gratefully. “Nothing about this is funny, I have no idea how you got me.”

A sparkle seemed to shine in her eyes as she looked up at him, one that reminded him of the grim dichotomy in her he had just witnessed. No matter how bubbly and childlike her demeanor, this woman was undeniably a Turk. Her capacity for violence was there, just below the surface, and she had absolutely been ready to end a grieving widow’s life for even the slightest, most inconsequential threat against Reeve’s person. That motion that Reeve had seen, Freyra had nearly pulled out a weapon to inflict ultimate justice on an already restrained opponent. The quick motion on Reeve’s part had literally saved that woman’s life.

Reeve had that kind of power now, power over life and death with nothing more than a hand gesture. Rufus and his father had held that kind of power too. 

Reeve’s smile instantly vanished and he turned away from his security detail, a dark cloud again returning to him. All of it was too much of a roller coaster. The day had dredged up so many spikes of emotion that he hardly knew how to process any of it at all. They were all a swarm of insects buzzing in his skull and competing for his attention at identical, shrill volumes.

What had ever made him think he was prepared for this? Why did Veld have to leave that morning? Or ever? Reeve couldn’t handle this alone.

“Hey,” Freyra said softly, leaning into Reeve’s periphery. “Do you need anything, sir?”

“I…I need to…focus…on something,” he murmured. “Do something—I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to call up someone from the Gainsborough house?”

“It’s not  _ her bloody house!” _ he shouted, causing Freyra’s eyes to jolt open in surprise. “It’s me _ mum’s _ house, hers is a pile of…!” 

The shocked look on Freyra’s face immediately brought his outburst to a halt. Reeve tightened his jaw, the only way he could keep himself from spiraling further. His accent had slipped again, a good indication there was no saving his composure. He rubbed his face and turned his back on her to avoid her expression. “No,” he murmured. The effort of burying everything strained his voice to a near-whisper. “I wouldn’t be able to explain any of this to any of them, and I’m not proud of what I put that woman through…”

“Mrs…Gainsborough?”

Tiredly, he shook his head. 

“Hm.” The small sound from Freyra indicated she had pieced together his meaning quickly.

“Just…I need a few moments. Stay in the hall for a bit,” Reeve said weakly, guilty for taking out his frustration on the closest target. Freyra didn’t deserve the kind of abuse Reeve’s fellow board members had doled out to staff at the slightest inconvenience. Five days was apparently the longest Reeve could hold any form of moral high ground. “Please close the door after you,” he finished.

A silence hung through the suite, and he clenched his jaw tighter until he heard the door close. He turned to sit back at his desk, however, Freyra was still in the room. He opened his mouth to reiterate his order, but she firmly pointed at the rug. 

“Sit.”

“Pardon?”

“On the floor,” she said stiffly. “Sit.”

Still very raw with emotion, Reeve opened his mouth to argue. She sharply held up a finger, then pointed back at the floor, her face tight. 

Admittedly, Freyra had every right to make demands after his childishness…In a huff he undid his jacket and eased himself to the floor, sitting cross-legged and feeling rather ridiculous while doing so. Freyra stepped behind him, and suddenly he genuinely worried what her plan might be. He felt her sit behind him and fully lean her back against his.

A violent blushing overtook his face. Reeve glanced over his shoulder to catch the barest glimpse of Freyra sitting calmly and staring up at the ceiling. Baffled by the position he was now in, he had quickly forgotten most of his raging anxiety. “F…Freyra?”

“Yes, sir?” she said softly.

“Is…What exactly is this?”

“You don’t seem like a hug kind of guy,” Freyra mumbled, her eyes drifting closed. “But you also look like you super need one. I’ve found this works pretty well in a pinch.”

Reeve couldn’t deny the anecdotal evidence. He…hadn’t had someone force themselves in his space in a long time. He couldn’t actually remember the last time someone who wasn’t his mother had been this close for this long. While soothing and fairly frequent, hugs from Tifa were brief, and any of the others offered little more than half-hugs or pats on the back. Feeling the warmth of another person against him was like a button had been pressed and rebooted Reeve’s brain. He let out a gradual sigh of relief—despite how uncomfortable he should have been. “This…This seems like a breach of some kind of protocol.”

Freyra shrugged, sending electricity down his back when her shoulders brushed against him. “I mean, yeah,” Freyra said calmly. “But I locked the door.”

“That will not make this better if someone comes looking for me.”

Casually, Freyra leaned more of her weight against him. “Enh, you’re probably right. It’s so annoying people always make the slightest touch about sex.”

Her frankness made his eyebrows lift in surprise and his face grew hotter. He battled the urge to loosen his collar or slip out of his coat to combat the heat. He would just sit and sweat as though any kind of physical contact wasn’t so rare for him that he could barely contain himself. “Thankfully, it most certainly is not about sex in any way,” he said in as firm a tone as he could in the moment…mostly to test if she actually did have some kind of ulterior motive he would have to rebuke as her superior.

“Nope,” she said plainly and in her usual, bubbly tone. “I’m not into any of that.”

That was…strangely reassuring, in all honesty. A bit of his awkwardness subsiding, Reeve again craned his head to try to see her. “Really?”

“Nah,” she said with a shake of her head. “It’s just not…me. I tried a few times. But none of it appeals to me.”

“Not any kind of relationships?”

“Not the ones people mean when they ask that,” she replied. 

“Huh,” he mused. “I’ve had people assume I was the same way. Very much the opposite, though.”

“Ha, figured.”

“No one ever says that to me.”

“It takes someone who don’t care to notice who does.”

“Thank goodness, at least someone does.”

Freyra fell silent for a while, and the two simply sat in each’s space. At last she turned her head slightly to send her voice toward him. “Sir?” A strangely glum tone to her voice, she asked, “D’ya like musicals?”

“I love musicals.”

“You think…You know how there’s always people bursting into song, but always people in the background who don’t?”

“Yes.”

“Do you…think any of those people think they’re weird for not hearing the music?”

Reeve adjusted himself to better prop up Freyra’s back, the weight against him feeling more and more soothing. “Maybe they do. But maybe from their perspective they’re just in a different story that  _ doesn’t _ have music. There’s nothing wrong with that. Plenty of stories are just fine without.”

Freyra let out a breathy laugh. “I’ll be damned. You get it.”

“And…you seem to get me right now.” 

She nodded. “You have your We-Totally-Saved-the-World friends for most problems, but you need a few Yeah-I-Get-How-Much-Sticking-With-Your-Shinra-Responsibilities-Can-Suck friends, too.”

Blinking, a new blush in his cheeks, Reeve repeated the word: “Friends…Is…that what you’re hoping for me to be right now?”

“If that’s okay, sir,” she offered in a small voice. “I understand if that’s not my place. I mean, I am still a T—” She cut herself off with an exasperated raspberry. “Bleck, a  _ SpecOps agent. _ And your bodyguard. Wow, the name change is gonna take a while to get used to.”

“Well…you weren’t my security when we first met,” he mused. 

“See? You were just the Chief’s old buddy back then,” she agreed. “And, no offense to you, but if there was anyone on Gaia I would allow to sweep me off my feet, it could only be Cait Sith.” Freyra added a giggle. “You think he’d go for it?”

“In an instant,” Reeve snickered in return. “But a marriage of convenience isn’t something I could allow. Besides, I’m sure he’d break your heart.”

In mock disappointment Freyra snapped her fingers. “Man, I can’t even fall in love and he’d still find a way? He’s  _ good.” _

A smirk crossed Reeve’s face. “A regular cat-sanova.”

Freyra burst into laughter, much harder than such a C-grade pun should have elicited. Her giddiness was infectious, though, and Reeve found himself chuckling with her—the last of the torrent of anxieties fleeing as he felt their shared mirth rebound and expand through his chest. Any tears of grief that had been lingering in his throat throughout the day rolled down as tears of laughter. He coughed and pulled out his handkerchief to wipe his face as he steadied himself.

Hearing the change in his breath, Freyra leaned to face him. “Oh, no…I’m sorry…”

Sniffing largely, he waved off her concern. “No, no, I’m fine…a lot better than I’d be if you weren’t here,” he said, giving her a weary, red-eyed smile. “C…Would you mind sitting like this a little longer?”

Freyra beamed back at him and nodded, moving to prop against him again. 

Reeve hadn’t had the faintest idea how much he had needed this kind of connection. He had refused to make time for it for far too long…“I do need a few friends who understand this side,” Reeve said in a low voice. “Thank you.”

“Thank  _ you,” _ she replied in return. “I haven’t had a cuddle-bro in a while. People are always weird about it. But when you don’t date, it’s kind of hard to meet that need, ya know?”

He grimaced self-consciously. “It certainly is.”

“I had two,” she added faintly. “Not anymore.”

Reeve’s brow grew hard in concern. “Who…?”

“Rude was always cool about it,” Freyra whispered. “A real gentleman. And even though he always made fun of me about it, Alvis would let me lean on him.”

One missing in action and the other taken by Meteor Crash…Reeve had completely forgotten the former Turks were still mourning as well. “I’m…I’m so sorry, Freyra.”

Again she sullenly shrugged. “It sucks, but I’m making it.”

_ They’ll need ye as much as ye need them. Ye’ll see. _

Cait’s mysterious offer of advice appeared at the forefront of Reeve’s mind unexpectedly. While they were generic enough words of wisdom, they also described this moment perfectly. Perhaps the fortune teller had known what the both of them would need. 

“Don’t think you’re ever imposing if you need someone to lean against,” Reeve said gently. “I’ll be fine with it.”

A tiny sniffle escaped Freyra, despite her trying to make it unnoticeable. “And-And if you need some time to let it all out, I’ll make sure you have the space to do it.”

“You’ll probably have to notice for me. As you can see, I’m not good at it.”

“Oh, I am  _ awful  _ at it. Trade? You keep an eye on me, too?”

“Extremely fair.”

“Deal?”

The pair awkwardly reached around each other to shake, both snickering at how impossible it was to properly do so with their backs still touching. Freyra managed to grip Reeve’s fingertips, and she giggled while she less shook it and more flopped it around.

“That was the worst shake I’ve ever been a part of,” Reeve laughed. “And _ I _ was hired as an awkward seventeen-year old.”

“Shut up, that was my best handshake ever.”

“‘Shut up, Senior Director’.”

“Shut up,  _ sir.” _

“Good enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter has been on my mind since I started writing Through Another's Eyes months ago. I'm aware that Mrs. Shinra had passed away long ago, but honestly the punch of this particular chapter really wouldn't have worked with anyone else. 
> 
> Increasingly it's going to be obvious how my thoughts on mega corporations lean, and how it differs from the Compilation has made the WRO and Shinra. For one, no matter how money-grubbing Rufus' father was, it would be absurd to imagine that the others on the Shinra board didn't have *massive* executive paychecks and accumulated wealth. It's par for course for any major corporation, so even those who probably had little uses for wealth like Reeve and Hojo would have still been paid that much in the honor of their positions (and let's be honest, what did Hojo spend money on? The company funded all his research seemingly without question, and everything we've seen of him suggests he cares about *literally nothing else*). 
> 
> Also, Freyra "Shotgun" of the Turks is quickly becoming one of my favorite characters to write. I decided she needs to be ace/aro because there are generally few of them in fiction, and the "main" character of Before Crisis is written in such as a way as to be so much of a blank slate that any of their preferences never matter to the game. So, I decided to run with it. :D


End file.
